


Sellout

by Elder_Higgins



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst without a happy ending, F/F, F/M, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-10 18:52:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18413837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elder_Higgins/pseuds/Elder_Higgins
Summary: Sellout: a betrayal of one's principles for reasons of expedience.That one word ruined his life





	Sellout

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in the canon era, however it has been a while since I have watched Newsies Live (seeing as they took it off Netflix - ask me how mad i am) so some minor facts might be wrong. Some stuff was changed for the purpose of the story, but I really thrive off accuracy and I apologize if anything is incorrect
> 
> Regardless, please enjoy!

It was common knowledge that the soulmate algorithm was not perfect. Some people ended up with no one, some with multiple, and others with the same sex. Those types of bonds were typically ignored, a stain on the reputation of the perfect society that had been created so long ago. The higher powers of the universe had tried many techniques in linking souls: the first words spoken to one another (too common, vague), writing appearing on both of the skin (many were uneducated, conflicts in social class), first place of skin to skin contact (some lived continents away, false hope), the list continued each one containing flaw upon flaw. 

Then they decided on one that would embrace all the flaws, that would encapsulate the fact that soulmates did not always have a picture-perfect romance: the first time one’s soulmate would break their heart. 

For those living continents apart, all theirs said was “distance” and they knew they would never meet them; for those in different social classes, all theirs said was “status” and they knew they either been scandalized or separated; for those with different races and ethnicities, all theirs said was “culture” and they knew that their love would be condemned; for those with same sex soulmates, theirs simply had the word “male” or “female” so they knew from the beginning that they were destined to be homosexual – yet people still discriminated against them, viewed them as criminals. 

David Jacobs had none of these. He had a single word: _sellout_. All soul marks were vague, the specifics would take out the suspense, he suspected. After all, who wants to know they’ve met their soulmate straight away? David sure as hell didn’t, it took away the ability to form human connection. 

When he was younger, he would sit at his mother’s feet with his sister, Sarah, and listen to stories about how she knew their father was “the one.” Her words, _false accusations_ , branded just above her ankle. She would tell them how the ink on her skin had began to form as she came closer and closer to experiencing her heartbreak, it would darken and darken until it finally happened. 

“It hurt, everywhere,” she would say, watching the two completely enthralled in the story, “It would start where your mark is and blossom throughout your entire body until you can’t breathe, and you want to cry. That’s when you know that what you have is real, because it hurts.” 

Sarah’s had come in when she was twelve, positioned right on her collarbone. _Female,_ it read. Those soul marks always appeared early in puberty. It was better to know how their lives would shake out and avoid that false hope. For Sarah her mark meant not only female, but of a higher class. Disgraceful. Their father didn’t talk to her anymore, barely even glanced at her. At least he hadn’t turned her into the police.

David’s had not appeared until later. A few months before his father’s accident at work, the cursive ‘s’ had begun to solidify on the back of his left hand. Each week a new letter was added, slowly, calculated. When he joined the Newsboys Union the word was completed: _sellout_. 

That one word ruined his life. 

Chaos. His mind was jumbled. The rally around him was frantic. Shouts. Curses. Money exchanged. Sellout. Chaos. 

Davey, once David, but now affectionately nicknamed by none other than the famous Jack Kelly, stared dumbfounded. His hand burned as the thick black ink began to scar deep into his flesh. The pain shot up his arm, choking the life out of him, blurring his vision. He was dying, Davey was sure of it. That or his heart was mix of shattered pieces and pain churning inside him. 

He was the only one in the frenzy of panicked Newsies to be frozen in place, hurt to the point everything went numb. The (in)famous Jack Kelley caught his distraught gaze, then turned and ran. 

When he had first met Jack Kelly, Davey was convinced he would end up loathing the boy. He was not impressed with is egotistical, arrogant, cocky attitude. Les gravitated right to him but Les had always been a good judge of character, so he figured that Jack could not possibly be as bad as he feared. 

It had turned out that Les had been right to befriend Jack. He had insisted that the pair split their earnings, yet Davey always ended up with more money than he handed him and when he asked he never got a straight answer. Usually just a shrug to brush off the comment or “you’s and the kid is lookin’ too skinny.” Davey never pushed after that. 

The strike had bonded them closer in a few days than months of selling ever could have. The hours of planning, late at night when all the others had gone to bed, quickly secured Davey’s ranking as second-in-command. That and the fact that Jack had explicitly said so after he soaked a kid who was hackling Davey for being so “posh.” 

He stood on the front stoop of the lodging house, holding the kid – poor Albert had meant nothing by the comment, but Jack heard it all out of context – by the ear. “Listen up! I’s wants all of you’s to know that anyone who has anythin’ to say to Davey you’s can say to me as well. He’s a part of the union now, whether you’s likes it or not. 

“He’s our second-in-command and if I’s hears anyone one of you’s bad mouthin’ him, you’ll get a soakin’ so bad you’ll wish you had stepped on Spot Conlon’s territory instead. Ya hear me? We’s gotta take care of our own here. Tearin’ each other down and castin’ each other out will only give pigs like Pulitzer more power ova’ us. Is that what you’s all want?” 

Jack’s riveting speech had sent a cry up in the air and kids marching into the lodging house with a newfound sense of unity. Once everyone but Davey had gone inside Jack released Albert, who scampered away from the two after he received a small apology for beating him up and making an example out of him. Hurt, but ultimately understanding, any hard feelings between Albert and Jack after the incident had been completely dissolved. 

“As grateful as I am for you beating children up for me, Jackie,” Davey said, licking his lips while looking at anywhere that wasn’t Jack Kelly, “I would rather you not go attacking people and rallying the troops in my name.” 

There was rich laughter, the kind the made heat rush to his cheeks and his knees wobble, Jack clapped him on the shoulder. “Dave, you’re one of the best fella’s I’s ever had the pleasure of knowin’, there is no way in hell I’s is lettin’ anyone get away with sayin’ a damn thing that isn’t nice about you.” 

The sincerity in his voice was reassurance that Davey could not make eye contact. If he did then there was no way he would be able to restrain himself from slamming the famous Jack Kelly into the lodging house doors and pressing a rough kiss to his lips for the world to see. He stared at his fingers, picking at a hangnail. 

The soul mark on his hand finalized its cursive loop. _Sellout_. Jack waited for a response but went inside after not receiving one. A thanks was caught in his throat, shoved between that final swish of the ‘t.’ 

Sellout: a betrayal of one's principles for reasons of expedience. Davey was educated. He knew that the word was a noun. He knew that it originated sometime in the 1850’s. He knew that it meant Jack Kelly was not his soulmate. Jack Kelly was a lot of things, but greedy and disloyal were not among them. 

It should have been a relief, maybe Davey wasn’t gay as he had feared, but instead he was wholly disappointed. He would never know what it was like to fall asleep in his arms or brush his lips across the five o’clock shadow that was beginning to grow or wrap his arms around his middle as Jack sketched or sneak up to the penthouse as the other boys partied to talk about everything and nothing in between stolen kisses. 

Davey would never know what it was like to be loved by Jack Kelly, but that didn’t stop him from loving the boy. He stared at the cursive on his hand as he pushed the door to the lodging house open. There were cheers for the second-in-command and the last-minute preparations for the next day began. 

The strike came and went. Jack was no where to be found and Davey had a fresh bruise blooming across his cheekbone, sitting in Jacobi’s as gloomy as the rest of the bunch. The Newsboy Union had made front page and even with celebrations all Davey could think about was how Crutchie was rotting away in The Refuge and Jack Kelly was god knows where. 

Sure, he smiled and laughed with them, but his heart wasn’t in it. It was sitting on Jack’s shoulder, wherever he was, crying at the humiliating loss. He left the celebration early with Les trailing close behind. They took the long way home to let Davey think. 

Their plan had not had the exact effect the boys had envisioned; however, there was still an impact. They had sent cops, which had to have meant there was some level of fear at these 100-odd kids rebelling against the status-quo. The adults had underestimated a rag-tag group of nobody’s. 

Selling papers the next day had only solidified Davey’s theory. Wiesel was apprehensive as he handed out the papers. The Delancey brothers shied away from the smallest glance. They were afraid, genuinely afraid. 

He and Les split up, with strict warning not to stray further than two blocks. Sales were slow, the headlines weren’t as exciting as “Newsies Stop the World,” but worked nonetheless. Jack was still nowhere to be found, racking up to a shocking three days without him being spotted. It was beginning to worry everyone, if Jack was hurt or in jail then no one really had any idea how to keep Pulitzer from raising the prices of papers once more. 

His eyes landed on a poster for Medda’s theater. Of course. Davey shouted his last headline, the truth in it was a bit stretched but honestly, he had someplace to be and figured it wouldn’t hurt anyone too bad. A pedestrian wandered up to him, the penny and paper were exchanged, and Davey hurried off to find his brother. He had an idea and an important person to present it too. 

He burst into the theater. To say Jack looked hungry and tired would be an understatement; he looked defeated. “Jack!” Davey practically cried out, his brother leading the way down the stairs. 

There was a scowl in response and nothing more. Davey’s gut twisted, his hand burned for the shortest moment and he was sure that he had to have imagined it. It was only when Davey proudly proclaimed that the Newsboy’s Union had made it, “Above the fold, Jackie! Look at us!” that Jack truly looked him in the eye. 

“You’s has a shiner on your cheek,” Jack whispered. He brought his hand up to Davey’s face and let his fingertips gently brush the bruise; Davey cleared his throat and shot a look in Les’s direction. Jack flinched. “We’s never should have went along with the strike-” he pulled away with frown. 

Jack was receding inside himself once more. If he couldn’t run away, then he’d lock himself away in his mind. He had to do something and fast. Thank goodness Les spoke up and Davey launched right into his plan. 

As he spoke, Jack’s eyes grew less glassy and more vibrant. He looked at Davey like he did on those late nights of planning; the ones where he would lean in, so their shoulders would brush, and he could feel the heat of his breath on his neck – “Wow, Dave, you’s is real smart,” he would say, then proceed to poke fun at the blush that would spread across Davey’s cheeks. 

His Jack Kelly was coming back. The strings of his heart tightened, with each inch Jack’s smile grew. He was looking at Davey like he was Santa Fe again, and then Katherine showed up. Or had she always been there? Davey hadn’t been able to focus on anything except Jack, who’s attention immediately switched over to her. 

It became clear that Davey would never measure up to Katherine Plumber. They were obviously soulmates, they had to be with the way Jack stared at her while she wasn’t looking. Hell, even the colors of his newest backdrop mimicked those of her dress. 

He had to move on. Jack hissed in pain at something but waved away any questions. “Look, let’s just organize this rally a’right?” he said with a forced grin. Off they went. 

Jack had not showed, Brooklyn had, but Jack had not. It seemed to be his new brand. So long catching a carriage ride with Theodore Roosevelt, Jack Kelly would forever be known as the leader that could never be found. 

Honestly it would have been better if Jack had never shown up at all. His speech was completely opposite what they had planned, and all the Newsies went into a panic. 

Chaos. His mind was jumbled. The rally around him was frantic. Shouts. Curses. Money exchanged. Sellout. Chaos. 

Davey, once David, but now affectionately nicknamed by none other than the famous Jack Kelly, stared dumbfounded. His hand burned as the thick black ink began to scar deep into his flesh. The pain shot up his arm, choking the life out of him, blurring his vision. He was dying, Davey was sure of it. That or his heart was mix of shattered pieces and pain churning inside him. 

He was the only one in the frenzy of panicked Newsies to be frozen in place, hurt to the point everything went numb. The (in)famous Jack Kelley caught his distraught gaze, then turned and ran. 

Davey ran after him. 

Jack was faster, this was common knowledge along with the fact that the soulmate algorithm was not perfect because he, a gangly mess of limbs, was the pair to Jack Kelly. Leader of the Newsboy Union, sellout, and the most handsome being he had ever seen. 

There were few places that Jack could be going, and Davey lost him after a few sharp turns. He let himself stop for a minute. Breathe – catch his breath would be more like it. 

“Fuck,” Davey said in between heaves. He couldn’t tell if it was directed at his current situation or the tingle that still tainted his hand. Jack Kelly was his soulmate. He had to tell him, to fix everything, to convince Jack to take back what he said. 

Instinct told him to check the “penthouse.” Davey wished he had checked the alley behind Jacobi’s first, because the climb up the ladder broke him. 

Jack was talking alright, passionately in the rich melodious voice Davey had come to admire. He looked up, ready to call out to Jack, but there was another voice. Katherine. 

Davey had nothing against Katherine, she was an asset to the team. Hell, she had got them on the front page in a well-written article that deserved to be hung in a museum; however, she had Jack tongue tied. Literally. She and Jack were kissing. 

Part of him always knew this would happen. They constantly flirted with one another, so it was only a matter of time until they got together. After all, boys were with girls. It didn’t matter who their soulmate was. 

He missed a rung on the ladder as he climbed down. The fear of falling caused a scream to push its way through his lips. The two above him pushed apart. Davey imagined them wiping spit hastily from their swollen lips. He hated Jack Kelly. 

Another scream sounded, this time it was not from Davey, but one of the two above him. Anguish: a state of severe mental or physical pain or suffering. That’s the only word he could use to describe that scream. 

“Jack!” Katherine shrieked as metal clanged. Jack had collapsed from the pain, gritting his teeth. He looked through the grate of the fire escape and met Davey’s tear streaked gaze. He was five feet from the ground. Davey let go. His feet hit the ground. He ran. 

Jack was faster, this was common knowledge. Even after feeling the pain of heartbreak, he was able to catch up to Davey with ease. Katherine was still on the fire escape, much to Davey’s relief. 

“Dave, slow down! Please a fella needs to catch his breath,” Jack said with a wheeze in between words. Davey stopped, not because Jack asked him too, but because he could barely breathe as well. 

The two of them stood, hunched over, and dripped with sweat in the dark alley behind Jacobi’s. No one spoke. Conversation couldn’t come easy after them both feeling the heartbreak of having a soulmate. A gay soulmate. A death sentence. Davey wanted things to go back to normal, when he could love Jack without anyone else knowing. 

Before Jack was a sellout. Before he was kissing Katherine as if Davey had never even existed. “You’re a sellout.” Davey spit on the ground, glaring at Jack with half-hearted hatred. He had never seen Jack Kelly cry, but there were tears gushing down his face and all the anger dissipated. 

“I’s is so sorry, Dave,” he sniffled, reaching out to grab Davey’s left hand but only caught air. Davey couldn’t bring himself to touch him. Not yet. “Please, don’t hate me. I can’t lose you’s too. I’s had to do it. Pulitzer threatened to send you to The Refuge, please Dave, I’s did it for you.” 

His soulmark, the scarred flesh branded into his flesh tingled at the memory. Money being passed. Jack running. Katherine and him kissing. “You’re my soulmate.” 

Jack nodded, scratched at the back of his neck, and avoided Davey’s gaze. “I know.” 

Davey straightened, tugging his tie loose. He needed to breathe. “I wanted you to be my soulmate, Jackie, but you already knew that. Yet, you were still up on that fire escape kissing her,” Davey said with a shudder, “You saw my soulmark the day of the strike and when Pulitzer offered you money to do what you did at the rally- You knew! Do I mean nothing to you?” 

He shouldn’t have rose his voice, Jack’s flinch split his heart in two. Davey couldn’t bear to be the one to hurt Jack. “David Jacobs, you’s mean the world to me-” A sharp laugh from the other cut him off. 

“Save it, Jack.” 

“Davey, please. I’s cares so much about you,” Jack hiccupped, openly sobbing at this point. Davey couldn’t help but roll his eyes. He was not about to be manipulated. “I’s really do, believe in me please!” 

“Believe in you like Katherine does? Is that what you want, Jack? For me to not be me, not be a guy? I fucking loved you, Jack Kelly, and you knew it!” Davey screamed, moving closer to get in his face. Spit flew off his lips, landing on Jack’s cheek in a mix of tears and sweat. The bulls were bound to hear them and they would both be useless to the union, but Davey couldn’t bring himself to care. He was allowed to be selfish, he wanted to be selfish. 

Jack shook his head, making a successful grab at Davey’s left hand, and bringing it to his chest. “No. I’s want you to be you, Dave,” Jack cried, grip on his wrist tightening as though he were scared Davey would rip it away from the scratchy fabric of his shirt; he could feel Jack’s heart pounding, “I’s is scared. My soulmark says ‘loathe’ and I’s didn’t know what that meant, so I’s asked you that one night- 

He had, and Davey answered immediately, as he always did with Jack. Loathe: extreme disgust. A synonym to hate. 

“I’s thought it was Katherine at first. Me and her was always buttin’ heads, but up on the penthouse- we love each other, Dave and you’s hated me. It’s right here scarred onto my’s chest forever. I’ have to walk around knowin’ that you’s hate me. I’s don’t blame you’s, but I’s need you. Davey, I need you in my life,” Jack fumbled with the button on his vest then his shirt. The scar was visible even in the darkness. 

Dave ran his fingertips over the scar, tracing the words, and then broke down in tears himself. “I don’t hate you, Jack. I could never hate you, but I do loathe you right now,” he admitted, which opened the flood gates and his body was wracked with a loud sob. 

Jack wrapped him into a hug, one that was not returned at first, but needed and eventually accepted. The broken boys stood entangled in one another’s arms. Davey wanted to kiss Jack, run away to Santa Fe, and be together like the universe had destined them to be. 

“Do you really love Katherine?” He asked Jack, voice cracking at her name. 

His response was a nod against his chest. “It’s easier to be with her. There’s no fear of being caught, plus we’s work well together.” 

Davey’s face contorted with rage and he slowly removed himself from the hug. Jack was clutching at the scar. “I will always be your friend. I will always love you and support you, but I refuse to let you toy with my emotions, Jack. So, pick. Me or her?” 

The Newsboy Union had rallied up 100,000 kids to strike against New York’s most powerful business men. Jack Kelly shook hands with the mayor, Davey saw it with his own eyes. He shared in Jack’s excitement when he grinned at him. 

They had won, and Jack Kelly had shared his victory kiss with none other than Katherine Plumber as Davey looked on, his soulmark still scarred into his left hand. 

It was common knowledge that the soulmate algorithm was not perfect. 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!  
> How much you all enjoy my writing dictates how much and what I write! So please, request things or talk to me about parts you did or did not like. I would love some constructive criticsm :)


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